


Touch me, Ignite my soul

by adagietto



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF
Genre: 2010 Winter Olympics, 2014 Winter Olympics, AU, Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kid Fic, Mutual Pining, Original Child Character(s) - Freeform, Parenthood, Platonic Bed Sharing, Sexy Times, Sharing a Bed, and "Platonic" Bed Sharing, episodic, in Scott's Canton apartment, post-Sochi, pre-Vancouver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 00:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adagietto/pseuds/adagietto
Summary: A series of three snapshots among their many shared, intimate moments:a t-shirt (2010), a novel (2015), and a song (2026)





	1. she spends more time sleeping over than I planned

**Author's Note:**

> I originally was going to separate the three chapters of this story into one shots but then I realized they would probably be better off together in an anthology of sorts.

I. a t-shirt

January 23, 2010

With less than a month before the Olympics at Vancouver, tensions are higher than the sky. No more crying over spilled milk. No more “what ifs” or “what could have beens” over Torino. The pressure is unmistakably there but they trust that Marina has trained them well. If they really wanted to, they could skate to Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 Adagietto while blindfolded.

Earlier this week, they left the competition in the dust at the Canadian Championships. Scott has his head where it needs to be. He has a steely arrogance that Tessa doesn’t recognize. Truth be told, Tessa thinks he’s being too cocky, and a part of her loathes it while another part loathes to admit that she is a little attracted to it.

Although his Facebook profile displays pictures of a progression from puppy love to a young relationship, Tessa knows it’s all a facade. Jessica and Scott have been on-again and off-again for the past three years. Scott vents to Tessa when he’s pissed off after he’s had a spat with Jessica. _Sometimes, I feel like we’re only in a relationship in name but not in action. You know what I mean, Tess_? _I don’t get it._

Tessa stays mostly silent when he goes on another rant. She throws in a reassuring hum or nod here and there. She sits next to him on the couch and pats his back, attempting to calm his anger. Once he’s done rambling, he always tells her, _Thanks for listening to my bullshit, T._   _I feel a lot better now_. And even though she doesn’t feel like she’s any help at all, she gives him a soft smile. _Anytime._  She doesn’t have any expertise or any advice to give him. She’s no expert, she knows. She’s had casual hook-ups with Fedor, which leave her unsatisfied and empty. (Probably, not one of her better decisions.) Other than short lived teenage “relationships”, she doesn’t have much experience with dating.

She holds her tongue and doesn’t vocalize all of her looming thoughts triggered by the lecture, which her University of Windsor professor recorded and which she watched online yesterday evening. Scott would probably get annoyed at her for trying to overanalyze him. _You’re not his shrink, Tessa_ , she thinks to herself. _Just be there for him_.

Tessa has led her life head over heart, and Scott is the exact opposite. _Why doesn’t he just ask Charlie or Danny for advice? Vent to them? Why me? I literally just sit there._

Tonight is no different.

The usual conversation and pseudo-therapy session has passed. Come to think of it, they’ve come quite a long way from the deafening, post-surgical silence. Counselors and sports psychologists served as instruments in repairing the unwieldy strain on their relationship. Scott seems to be doing a better job at communicating but then again, he’s always the more talkative one. Tessa doesn’t want to let him down so she puts on a brave face and pushes that little voice in her head that urges her to tell him that her shins are in pain yet again, to the very rearmost corner of her mind. _He probably already knows_.

And he _has_ known for quite some time now.

Fridays (after a grueling day with Marina and Igor) were spent lying on Scott’s sagging couch and drinking the cheapest cabernet or merlot they could find at a liquor store not far away from the rink. After two hours of losing to Scott four times out of six, Tessa had long given up playing NHL 2K10. Scott obnoxiously howled after each victory until Tessa was sick of his conceited, unsportsmanlike attitude. Scott said he would just play single player games for the rest of the night. He sat up with the Xbox 360 controller in his hands and his elbows resting on Tessa’s shins, her sock-clad feet resting in his lap.

Scott’s fingers press furiously into the buttons of his controller. “Shit, shit, shit. Fucking dammit,” his voice becomes louder with each consecutive expletive. “Fuck you, Brodeur,” Scott mutters under his breath to the semi-realistic animation of the goaltender of Team Canada.

With her back against the armrest, Tessa giggles with her mouth closed. She pours the last of the ten-dollar merlot into the mug she keeps at Scott’s apartment. It’s the one he gave her two Christmases ago. A cartoon of Audrey Hepburn in the iconic red strapless dress and gloves from _Funny Face_ is displayed on the front of the ceramic cup. She takes a sip and sets the mug back on the rickety coffee table where a small stack of magazines has been placed, namely Scott’s _Sports Illustrated_ and her old _Vogue_ she left a few months ago. She leans her head back and pushes her hair away from her face so that it dangles over the armrest of the couch.

As if Scott has said the funniest thing, she’s trapped in a fit of giggles as she rocks her head from side to side, her hair silently swishing against the upholstery. To her, the room feels like it’s fixed upon a slow spinning top.

“Tess, stop. I can’t concentrate with you bumping the controller.”

Tessa continues to shake her head but stills her lower body. The clicking of buttons soon ceases. There is a sharp thwack of the controller hitting the wood floor.

“I lost,” he wipes his brow. He scolds the television, “You had one job, Marty. One _fucking_ job.”

Tessa feels the blood rush down as she lifts her head to look bewilderedly at Scott. “I’m sorry, Scott,” she wiggles her toes against his forearm and tries to give him a sympathetic look but chortles instead.

He grasps her ankle and gives it a gentle tug, “You’re drunk, Tess.”

Tessa’s eyes listlessly scan Scott’s face. “Only a little bit,” Tessa assures him.

The winter sun had set early in the afternoon and left the room in darkness, except for the light emanating from the television screen. Scott glances at the digital clock on the cable box. It reads 2:43 AM.

Tessa’s right hand buries itself in the wavy ocean of her dark brunette hair. She closes her eyes and smiles, humming out a laugh that can’t seem to escape from out between her lips.

Scott straightens his posture and pulls at one of her big toes. “It’s not safe to go back to your place now. It’s too late.”

Giving her best effort to not sound as tipsy as she is, “I’ll be fine, Scott. The last time I slept on your couch, I couldn’t get up the next morning. I think it fucked up my back.”

The back of Scott’s throat makes a muffled guttural sound at her profanity.

“What?” she cocks her head and squints her eyes in his direction.

He quickly shakes his head and clears his throat. “You don’t have to crash on the couch, Tess. You could sleep with me.”

Tessa relaxes her lips from their pursed position as she ponders the idea. Overlooking their fleeting and awkward dating period at seven and nine years old, Tessa and Scott have maintained a firmly platonic relationship. They’ve seen too many other ice dancing pairs fall under romantic spells in which flirtation would incite passion, which would then bubble up into quarrels and caustic shitstorms. They wanted to reach for the stars even at young ages and in order to do so, they insisted on setting aside any feelings they had for each other (albeit at Scott’s discretion, since he initiated the separation).

But that didn’t necessarily dictate that Scott and Tessa solely felt platonic, friendly or brotherly feelings for each other. Nor is that the case.

Not to say that sharing a bed for one night would immediately flip the switch on their partnership but Tessa couldn’t stop herself from wondering of the implications of doing so. Sure, they both internally acknowledge that they are two attractive people but they have never ventured down that road before. 

“I mean—you know what I mean,” Scott scratches through his hairline, his eyes searching the surface of the floorboards. “—sleep next to me in the bed.”

They hear the rustle of the wintry wind tapping against the window. “I suppose we could,” Tessa’s scanning gaze seems to find the floor as interesting as Scott’s does.

Scott’s hands reach under her ankles and set her feet gently on the floor. He stands to turn off the Xbox and the television. Tessa picks up the fallen controller as well as hers, which is nestled between the cushions of the sofa. He takes them from her and tosses them into a plastic bin next to the console. Tessa walks to the kitchen and puts her mug in the sink along with Scott’s navy Maple Leafs mug. She waits for him, leaning her back and elbow against the counter. Her hair is mussed and draped over her shoulders. Still a tad tipsy, she sighs deeply, her eyelids heavy.

Rumpled from lounging on the couch, her black leggings rest dangerously low on her hips, revealing a few centimeters of her abdomen between her belly button and her hips. Scott’s eyes lock on that small uncovered row of skin for a few seconds too long. He visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple rising then falling.

“So,” Tessa’s chin points down. She stares at Scott perplexedly.

His eyes return to her face. “Oh right. You probably need some clothes to sleep in, eh? Come on.”

She follows Scott to his bedroom. She can count the number of times she’s been to his room on the fingers of one hand. The walnut wood-panelled walls contrast against the blue plaid of his duvet. A Toronto Maple Leafs fleece blanket is thrown over a chair along with a pile of his sweatshirts, sweatpants, and jeans. The bed has been cursorily made; the comforter has been casually thrown over, concealing the bumpy mess of sheets underneath.

“Hey, T. Catch,” he extends a hand into the middle drawer of his dresser and then throws Tessa a balled up plain, gray t-shirt.

She catches it with her nimble fingers and examines it, holding it up in front of her and against her frame.

“Thanks, Scott. This’ll do.”

“I need to find you some shorts. I’m not sure if I have anything to fit you.” He rubs his chin, considering his options, “Hold on. Let me check.” He leaves the room and walks to the adjoining washroom. He shuts the door of the washroom behind him.

Tessa quickly peels off her purple fine knit sweater and bra and tosses them on his bed before slipping on the t-shirt. Tessa catches sight of herself in the narrow floor length mirror that is hanging on the wall. The hem of the shirt falls on her thighs in the same fashion as a short dress would. Silently determining that the shirt alone should suffice as her pajamas, she pushes her leggings down. As she steps out of them, Scott opens the bathroom door. She notices him staring at her legs, if only for a brief moment. She leans down to pick up her leggings.

“Sorry, I should’ve knocked.” His eyes shoot up to her eyes then jump to the clothes she has removed, laying on his bedspread. He has to forcibly rip his gaze from the black lace of her bra.

Avoiding eye contact, Tessa begins to fold her leggings and proceeds to make a small, neat pile of her clothes. Clearing her throat, she gathers the pile in her arms and shifts her weight from foot to foot. Scott looks from her feet, up the pale skin of her legs, the worn fabric of his shirt, over the mini bumps of his shirt from her nipples, and to her face where a rosy blush has naturally arisen on her cheeks. She hugs the pile of clothes to her chest and crosses her arms.

Scott swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. He could frankly say that Tessa, standing there in the middle of his room, with only his beat up t-shirt hanging off her small frame, is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

“I...um...forgot, Tess. I’m sorry. I should’ve knocked before coming in,” he repeats himself and nods. “I found some shorts for you,” he raises his hand, carrying a pair of red athletic shorts.

"Thanks but I think I’m okay,” Tessa manages a closed-mouth smile.  

He shrugs, “These probably would just fall off you anyway.” He stuffs the shorts in his bottom drawer.

“Where can I put these?” she gestures to her clothes.

“Just put them over the dresser.”

She walks across the room to set her pile there and turns to Scott, finding him scanning her body up and down with his hazel eyes.

“Do you mind if I get ready? Get ready for bed, I mean?” She points to the door of the washroom behind him.

“Yeah, sure,” Scott scratches the back of his neck. “Um, your toothbrush is still there from last time.”

“Oh. Good.” She pauses before passing him and closing the door behind her.

As she squeezes a strip of Scott’s toothpaste onto her toothbrush, she can’t ignore the thought that pops into her mind—of the way Scott looked at her when he entered the bedroom as she was in the middle of changing. Scott never looked at her in that way, never in their thirteen-year relationship. She could’ve sworn he stared at her breasts for more than five seconds. _But why would he even?_ _I’m so flat._ _They’re practically mosquito bites_. Surely, some time in those thirteen years, he would’ve made his move if he really wanted her. _I mean, he’s_ Scott _for goodness sake_. Scott wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. Right? _Right_? Of course not.

She spits in the sink and rinses her mouth and her toothbrush. She stares at her reflection. Smudged rings of mascara underline her lower lash lines. Her pink lipgloss is gone, and she’s pretty sure most of it has transferred to the rim of her Audrey mug. Her hair is very frizzy from rubbing her head against the upholstery of the couch. There’s no way Scott would want her like this. _No way_. If anything would happen, it definitely would not happen at a time like this, especially when she looks like _that_.

Tessa rips a square from the paper towel roll near Scott’s sink. She runs some water over it and does her best to wipe away what’s left of her washable mascara and whatever’s left of her makeup. She combs her fingers through her hair to untangle some of the knots. She takes one last look at herself and hears a knock. She turns the doorknob.

“I remembered this time,” Scott flashes a lopsided smile.

“I’m all done. I think I’ll go sleep now,” she says quietly.

“Sure, Tess.” She passes by him and heads back to his bedroom.

His thoughts feel hazy in the late of the night (or the earliness of the morning, depending on how you view it). Tessa seems to move slowly. As she moves past him, he feels her chest skim his. Her hair lightly whips his shoulder as she turns away. He notices how her height brings the top of her head just under his chin. Through the countless hours on the ice, how is he just realizing all of this now? He shakes his head in a motion to shake off these thoughts and closes the door.

Once he’s finished, he opens the door and sees Tessa sitting on his bed. She’s bouncing her leg as she stares off into space and bites her lip. The shirt she’s wearing rises up higher with each bounce of her leg, revealing inch-by-inch of her pale thighs.

Scott gulps and clears his throat for the second time that night. “You okay?”

Tessa’s head immediately turns to him, “Sorry, I forgot to ask which side of the bed you sleep in.”

“No need to apologize. I sleep on the side closest to the door.”

“Oh okay.” She turns over on all fours and crawls to the side where Scott doesn’t typically sleep. She has obviously forgotten about the length of Scott’s shirt, and in the process, she presents Scott with a flash of her black lacy boyshorts. Scott’s tired eyes, which were half-closed a minute ago, are now ogling at the area in space where Tessa’s panties have been exposed. Stupefied and exhausted, he doesn’t even bother to turn his head or look away.

Realizing that she accidentally flashed him, Tessa pulls the comforter and flat sheet over her as quickly as she can. He seems to be frozen in place. “Scott?”

He blinks a few times and walks over to switch off the light. “Sorry, Tess. I’m just really tired.”

She feels the mattress dip as he makes his way next to her. “Me too,” she sighs.

Scott pushes one of his pillows to her side before she stretches out and lays her head down. “Do you need an extra blanket? I know you’re always cold.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I can grab that blanket over there,” he nods at the fleece throw atop the pile of his clothes on the chair.

“Really, Scott. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He shuffles beneath the sheets, fluffs his pillow, and lies on his back. He folds his arms under his head and stares into the darkness of the room.

Tessa turns over on her side, away from Scott. “G’night, Scott.”

His eyes follow her movements. “Night, T.”

 _Sleepovers are always awkward_ , she thinks. She always has trouble falling asleep, that’s just her way. It takes typically thirty minutes to an hour for her to drift off. When she’s away from home or away from her makeshift “home” here in Canton, she finds it even more difficult to turn in. However, the alcohol is weighing down her mind and her muscles are beginning to ache from this morning. These elements make it easier for her to sink lower into slumber, for her sleep waves to transition from beta to alpha.

Ten minutes pass until her wakefulness finally dissipates. However, she senses a faint shift in the comforter, which returns her to consciousness. She feels a warm hand run up and down her arm and then a warmer body strike a match behind her. She continues to breathe at her usual pace. She feels Scott’s warm torso flush against her back. His face presses against the nape of her neck. She can feel him breathing there. He moves his legs to touch hers. Under the sheets, an arm reaches around and a hand settles at her waist. She feels him inhale then exhale deeply. His body feels indescribably warm.

“Tess,” he whispers almost inaudibly. It doesn’t sound like Scott’s sleepy, gravelly, slightly raspy voice. No, Tessa would know if Scott was talking in his sleep. No, this voice is wide awake.

Tessa’s thoughts immediately leap to Scott’s previous suggestion of giving her a blanket to use. His body radiates heat that pleasantly burns on her skin, providing an abundance of warmth—more than any blanket could. She can’t help but let out an amused pigeon laugh.

Within a split second, Scott seems to have gone rigid behind her. His arm swiftly retracts. His radiating warmth hurriedly moves away from her; his body returns to _his_ side of the bed.

Tessa completely turns around to look at Scott. He is lying on his back, in the same exact way he was when they first got into his bed. The moon casts black and navy shadows all around the room. Tessa can see his eyes are open and staring at the ceiling. After taking another deep breath, he turns over to face her. He licks his lips. His eyes oscillate from her eyes to her lips. With a furrowed brow, Tessa searches his eyes. Scott’s hand moves upward from under the duvet and brushes her hair back, past her shoulder. His thumb gently rests on her chin and his fingers touch the line of her neck. Tessa closes her eyes when she detects the familiar warmth of his hand.

As she closes her eyes, she hears the sheets shift and feels the foreign push of Scott’s lips over hers. His lips are soft but his kiss is firm. His hand cradles the back of her neck. With one stroke of her hair, he pulls away while gently tugging on her upper lip.

In utter shock from Scott’s actions, Tessa is stiff during the entire kiss. She looks at Scott with incredulously wide eyes. Her lips remain parted from the way Scott left her mouth. Her fingers graze her lips. Although she opens her mouth to speak, Scott breaks the silence first.

“Tess, don’t say anything. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—You’re just—You’re so—You’re my best friend but you’re also so beautiful. And I—I’ve ruined it. I’ll go. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he brusquely shoves the duvet off him and scoots away to leave.

Her hand reaches for his forearm and gives it a squeeze. “Wait.”

Scott’s head turns to look at her. She pulls his arm towards her. He lies down again and faces her. She comes closer to him until her front is completely against his torso. He revels in the feeling of her chest pressed against his. A hint of a smile appears on her lips before she presses her own lips to his with a certain kind of innate grace that only Tessa seems to possess.

Scott hungrily kisses her back and Tessa opens her mouth to let Scott slip his tongue in between her lips. Her hands stroke his broad shoulders and his chest over his shirt. Scott moves to hover over Tessa, who is now lying on her back. One of her hands grabs his hand and guides it to her hip, now bare as the hem of her shirt (or rather, Scott’s shirt) has risen up above her waist. Scott caresses her lacy hip with his hand and traces his fingertips lower to grip the back of her thigh and trail down her calf and shin. He abruptly lifts his head away when he hears her whimper.

“What’s wrong?” he huffs breathlessly.

“‘Tickles,” she pushes his arm away from her leg.

He blinks, “You don’t have to lie to—”

Before he finishes his sentence, she crushes her lips against his and pulls him on top of her. The edge of Scott’s borrowed shirt now rests dangerously just below her breasts. She takes Scott’s hand again but this time leads it to her abdomen. He skims his knuckles on her naked waist and expects to come across a little silver ball at her navel. His hand searches but does not find what he’s looking for.

“Where is it?” His hand strokes her abs.

“Where’s what?”

“I thought you had your belly button pierced,” he mumbles into her mouth.

“Oops. I forgot to put it back in after I showered this morning,” she nibbles on his bottom lip.

His lips pull away from her mouth and head south to her neck. He suckles a tender spot in between her jaw and her clavicle. When his teeth tug on her skin, she responds with an instinctive thrust of her hips. Scott grunts into her ear and she does it again, this time with a suggestive swivel.

“Tessa,” he inhales sharply, “I suggest that you stop that if you want to sleep at all tonight.”

“Okay,” she murmurs in his ear, “I’ll stop.” She nips at his earlobe before leaning up to peck his lips. She lazily pushes him at the center of his chest and he rolls over backward to his side.

Under the blankets, they don’t leave space in between them. She turns on her side and he turns on his, so that they are face-to-face again. He pulls her shirt back down to where it should be, resting on her thighs. He rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

“Scott,” Tessa starts.

He opens his eyes to find her eyes, looking at his inquisitively. “Remember when I kissed you at the carnival when I was ten?”

She nods and softly smiles.

“I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you again.”

She giggles and it sounds like a bright melody, interrupting the dark silence of the night. “And?”

“And it’s way, _way_ better than I could have imagined.”

She nuzzles her face into his neck and plants a light kiss there. “You’re such a sap.”

He chuckles.

“I have to admit...you’re a really good kisser,” she mutters shyly into his neck and rests her head on his chest.

“Oh _really_?” He lets out the word teasingly but his eyes are fighting to stay open.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she pokes his chest with her index finger. She snakes her hand under his shirt and against his hard abdomen. She hums a tiny giggle.

His eyes open again. “What is it, Tess?” His voice is now authentically drowsy, the voice Tessa knows to be her sleepy Scott.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” She caresses his skin and then moves her hand to his back and lightly massages his tired muscles.

“I love you,” he says as he begins to nod off to sleep, not before lazily kissing her hair.

“I love you too,” she chastely kisses his chest. She peers over at the digital clock on Scott’s nightstand. It’s now 4:23 AM.

When they awaken, they sober up, but not just from the alcohol. They recognize the weight of what’s on the line. They keep their emotions at bay and don’t disclose too much or else they could cause a wildfire. So they quell the flames and blame it on hormones. Come some three weeks, and they will be on the ice in front of the whole world, doing what they’ve worked their whole lives for. It’s too much to bear. A romantic relationship could never be in the cards right now. They know Marina wouldn’t approve. And if anything between them went wrong...well, why would they even risk their partnership? Their friendship?

Somehow, Tessa doesn’t feel betrayed when Scott gets back together with Jessica and returns to his unstable cycle of a relationship. She holds onto that moment in Scott’s Canton apartment and tucks it in a mental drawer in the back of her mind. She revisits it now and then with fondness.

It isn’t the last time they lie next to each other in a bed. And though they didn’t go all the way that night, Scott will still say, to this day, that night in his cramped Canton apartment was one of the best nights of his life.


	2. tracing my fingers around a silhouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter is AU. I am aware that the real timeline of 2015 does not line up with the plot of this chapter.
> 
> The all-italics section indicates a flashback.

II. a novel

December 12, 2015

It’s been almost four months since the last time he saw her. She is standing outside City Lights Bookshop on Richmond Street. It looks like they’re having a special holiday sale, judging from the several patrons gathered in the vicinity. Two long tables are lined up on either side of the door, each lined with boxes of old books, vinyls, CDs, DVDs, and VHS tapes.

Scott had been walking back to his car, right after catching up with an old buddy of his who moved out of Ilderton into the city, at Richmond Tavern, a few doors down from the bookstore. Had he decided not to cross the street, he is sure he would have run into her and she would have seen him.

Tessa is thumbing through a dogeared copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ . Figures she would be. Figures that damn book would come back to haunt him. It’s vintage, classic romantic literature. It’s such a Tessa book, if not _the_ Tessa book. Scott is somewhat surprised to see her at this bookstore. He knows this one isn’t her favorite place from which to buy books. He remembers how she scrunched up her nose while commenting about the store’s location next to the Hi-Times smoke shop next door and how the smell would make her feel a bit nauseous.

She takes the Jane Austen novel in her left hand and holds it close to her double-breasted pea coat. As she leans over a box to look at more books, her hair falls in her face. She pushes the dark strands behind her ear and holds them in place as her eyes survey the literary selection. She looks like a character in a painting, frozen in place but only for a moment.

Scott could jaywalk and evade all the incoming cars. He would tap her shoulder or playfully shake her from behind, scaring her with a booming “Hey, T!”

And she would return his giant pillow of a hug and exclaim, “Scott!” The hug would feel awkward but he knows that they would both feel joy from a familiar embrace.

Scott could imagine the way her glassy, jade eyes would sparkle and the way her laugh would set fire to his bones. He could imagine the lightness and rasp in her voice, the sounds of her words like the rush of an ocean wave crashing over his ears, her vowels and consonants with a iridescent shine like freshwater pearls.

They would exchange “What have you been up to’s?” and catch up: “I haven’t seen you since that charity event we went to”—”Wow, has it really been months”—”You look really good, T.”—”Thanks, you do too.” He would comment on how her wool beret makes her look very Parisian and fittingly so for a woman who has always been besotted with the French city.

They would enter the store and be hit with the musty smell of old, used books. Scott would comment on the novel in her arm, and she would jab back at him, prompting his memory of his adamant refusal to skate to a certain-themed program. They would walk and talk, finding their way into a tight corner of the store. Scott would jeer at the retro adult magazines and make fun of the titles of self-help erotica straight out of the 70s. Tessa would try hard to contain her laugh, which would erupt into her wild, uncontrollable laugh—a laugh that still contains a smidge of the little seven-year-old Tessa he met all those years ago. She would playfully slap at his shoulder and bend over in hysterics.

They would meander throughout the store. Maybe Tessa would find another book that’s been on her wishlist. Maybe it would be another Jane Austen novel or a Charlotte Brontë novel or perhaps not a classic. Maybe it would be one of those books with inspirational quotes. She always loved inspirational quotes. Maybe it would be another of those Audrey Hepburn biographies or of Grace Kelly or any of those other classy, timeless beauties.

Tessa Virtue should be listed one of those classy, timeless beauties. She is undoubtedly a classy, timeless beauty herself.

They would dodge other patrons as they would continue their conversation. She would share information about her mom, her dad, Casey, Jordan, and Kevin. He would relate information about his mom, dad, Charlie, and Danny. They’d talk about their beloved nieces and nephews. They’d talk about Kaitlyn W. and Andrew, and Jeffrey and Patrick. They would lose track of time, and Tessa would rush to buy her novels. Scott would leave the store empty-handed because all the literature he would want to read would be her. He would want to read her with his eyes and his hands. But of course, he wouldn’t dare vocalize any of that.

They would exit the store but still, the flow of effortless conversation would continue. They would cross the street, and Tessa would suggest they could chat more at a coffee shop a couple of blocks over. Scott would agree, probably too readily and too enthusiastically.

They would sit at a small table for two and sip on their coffees. The shop would have that deep, earthy smell that Tessa loves so much. They would talk too loudly, laugh too rambunctiously, earning glares from the baristas and the other customers. Tessa would roll up her beret and tuck it into her pocket. She would take off her coat and hang it over the back of her chair. The baubles of her dangly earrings from that collaboration she’s been working on, would bob from side to side, front and back as she would prattle on about how excited she is.

The last streaks of the winter sun would shine through the big window and illuminate the lighter shaded roots of her hair. He would lean back in his chair and smile broadly, forgetting all about frustration—the commotion he caused while breaking up with Kait three months ago, about the intervention his family had with him about his drinking. They would reminisce about competition, about their strange childish rituals and dances. Scott would jokingly remind Tessa of her obsessive compulsiveness about the angles of her skate guards on the boards.

Tessa would want a second coffee, maybe a blonde roast this time. Scott would order another coffee for himself too, just so that she wouldn’t have to drink alone—even if it is, _just_ coffee. The overcast sky would darken and hours would pass before they decide to leave the shop.

Tessa would button up her coat and pull her scarf tighter around her neck. She would say something about going home. Scott would wonder if she is going home to someone but he wouldn’t dare ask. He’d like to think she would wonder if he was seeing someone too. Maybe she thought he was still with Kait. Whatever the case, ignorance is bliss. 

He would walk her back to her car and watch her drive away. She would promise to call or text him.

“Bye, Tess!” he would wave. He would walk to his car after her car would disappear from his sight.

All these moments flicker in his mind for an evanescent five minutes. He shouldn’t bother her, he conclusively decides.

He sees Tessa rectify her posture. She starts walking through the threshold of the small bookstore.

Maybe she wouldn’t buy _Pride and Prejudice_ . Maybe she would buy something else, like a bunch of DVDs. Maybe she would buy a book that is definitely unlike anything _the_ Tessa Virtue whom he knows would buy. Maybe he doesn’t know her, anymore, as well as he thinks. Maybe the awkwardness would be unbearable, and they wouldn’t have the same rhythm and easiness in conversation as they used to have.

 He doesn’t know how she takes her coffee nowadays. She probably likes a certain blend, which he cannot pronounce correctly. Memories of his messy breakup and his drinking problem loom over him like a dark cloud. He is not as confident as he once was. He is holding onto a perfect illusion of a perfect day with none other than his longtime skating partner, his longtime friend who has seemed to have slipped from his fingers. And he is the one who let her get away. He remembers, he never answered her texts from months ago. What gave him the right to need her now? And so, Scott trudges back to his car. He drives home in silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio.

 

...

 

Tessa has seen so many Scott doppelgangers in these past four months. She resolves that it’s just her imagination playing tricks on her. She almost gives herself whiplash when she sees a mass of thick hair that grows up like weeds, like Scott’s, at a Starbucks in London. When the man turns his head, Tessa is disappointed to find blue eyes and a thin nose.

She has seen Scott everywhere—in strangers, men and even some women, in little boys and girls. She’s seen his cheekbones, his eyes, his nose, his strong chin and jawline, the charisma he exudes, his jovial humor in so many different people. She’s seen him at art museums, on street corners, in restaurants, in drugstores—you name it, she’s seen him there.

She has to pick up a number of items for her family’s Christmas dinner for her mother, since it’s Kate’s turn to host this year. Thankfully, Kate gave her a list. She really should have went shopping earlier but she put it off until late. At nine o’clock in the evening, she enters Sobeys North London and takes a basket onto her elbow and stops in her tracks as soon as she heads in the direction of the produce section.

There _he_ is, in the flesh. She feels as though she’s almost had a heart attack because it’s really him.

He’s leaning against his shopping cart and laughing with an older, plump man whose name tag denotes he is the manager.

She smiles as he cocks his head to the side and straightens his posture, running a hand through his hair, the same thick hair that grows up like weeds. Oh, but it’s longer than she’s used to. He talks with his hands animatedly, his eyebrows raising and narrowing. The older man clasps his hands together and releases a bellowing laugh.

She can’t talk to him _now_ . She’s imagined their reunion so many times and none of them were like _this_ . She’s supposed to be dressed up, hair done, with light, natural makeup and a bright lipstick—not makeup-free, in old jeans and a puffy down jacket. But then again, why does she care so much? It’s Scott. He’s seen her in everything and in nothing. He wouldn’t even care. _But still_. Not like this. Not now.

Tessa quickly ducks out of that area. Scott can’t see her like this. She creeps past the produce section, grabs the vegetables she needs and rushes to the meat and poultry to obtain the rest of the things on her mother’s list. She is about to run through the frozen aisle to snatch some kale for her green smoothie when she sees he is there with his cart right beside the open door of one of the freezers. She peers behind the corner of the next aisle. Reading the label on a package of hot wings, he stands there. He turns his head in her direction, and she gasps silently. _Shit. Can he see me?_

His gaze is stoic. He simply shakes his head and returns the package behind the freezer before strolling with his cart away and toward the frozen waffles. Tessa exhales in relief.

Tessa sprints to the frozen kale, opens the freezer, seizes a package of the good stuff, and lets the freezer door slam shut. An older lady gives her a disapproving look as she darts to the express queue and pays for her twelve items or less.

She hasn’t checked the weather report all day and regrets not doing so as she storms outside, plastic bags in her bare hands. The wind gusts and almost blows off her toque. She defeatedly groans as she pulls out of the parking lot and heads for home.

 

__________

 

Scott leisurely bought his groceries on a Thursday night and delightedly ran into the manager of the store—a friendly man who was classmates with his dad in high school. The man was more loquacious than Scott remembered but was such a pleasure to talk to, breaking up the monotony of Scott’s typical Thursday nights.

As he is driving home in his truck, he sees a sedan pulled over to the side of the road with its hazard lights flickering. The snow has come down quite a lot in a short span of time. The roads haven’t even been plowed yet. He frowns.  

He could just keep driving but then, whom else would be kind enough to pull over and offer some help? Especially at this hour? He pulls over to the side and rolls down his window.

“Do you need any help?” he shouts and squints, trying to elucidate the blackness of night, lit by only a few, dim streetlights.

The figure shifts, a feminine voice answering. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just,” a head turns towards him, “...call CAA.”

He’d know those striking green eyes anywhere.

“Tess?” he lowers his head to see her through his right side window.

“Yeah, it’s me,” her eyes can’t hide her shock, and disappointment maybe? He can’t tell.

“Something wrong with your car?” he asks knowingly.

“It won’t budge. I’ve tried digging the tires out more but I just end up burning rubber.” He notices her hair is soaking wet.

He nods. “It’s pretty hard to get a tow this late. You’re better off leaving it there until early tomorrow morning. The snow is supposed to turn into rain overnight. It should be okay.”

She stares at her steering wheel, thinking to herself. “All right. That sounds good.” She turns to him, “Nice seeing you, Scott. It’s...been a while. Uh, you should probably get going.”

“Whoa, whoa. What’s going to happen to you? You can’t sleep in your car until the morning.”

“I was going to call Jordan or Kevin to pick me up.”

“Why? I’m right here. Hop in.” He motions with his hand.

She looks down at her lap and bites her lower lip. She unbuckles her seatbelt and pauses. “I’ve got stuff with me. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he responds gently. “Is it a lot? Do you need me to help you?”

“No, I think I’m okay,” she says slowly.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the labels on the bags. _Did she see me at the store? Why didn’t she say hi?_ Then again, he could ask himself the same question about the time he saw her at the bookshop last week. The universe probably hates him, he decides.

He notices her jacket is dripping with melted snow when she slams her car door shut. She takes the four plastic bags of her groceries with her as she climbs into his passenger seat. She’s still so beautiful, still the same woman with a angelic face and marble-esque green eyes.

“Thanks,” she mutters and presses her lips together in a weak smile.

“So how’s everything going? I heard about that jewelry thing you’re working on. Sounds very _you_ .” _Very you? Smooth, Moir. Smooth. Try being even more articulate, why don’t you?_

Her posture relaxes, “Yeah, it’s going well. We launched already and I enjoyed picking out metals and stones. It was fun. I’m actually starting the process of renovating my house so I’m staying with my mom. How’s everything with you?”

“Good, good. I’m helping out at the rink with the little ones,” he taps the steering wheel when he reaches a red light. “You know, the usual.”

Tessa hesitates, “Um, don’t you have someone to call? Your girlfriend to let her know—I mean, it’s kind of late.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He keeps his eyes on the road.

“What happened to Kaitlyn?” she asks, trying to sound as casual as she can.

He scratches his hair behind his ear. “Yeah, we had a thing. It didn’t last too long...What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

She shrugs, “I’ve been too busy. I don’t really have time for anyone.” A heavy silence passes through them, interrupted only by the swish of the windshield wipers and the clicking of the turn signal.

“Do you mind if we go to my place and talk more?” his eyes shift to check for pedestrians.

She starts uncertainly, “Scott, I don’t—”

“I bought hot chocolate mix and have marshmallows at the apartment,” he cuts in. “Come on, Tess. Just like old times. I—I miss talking with you. It’s been awhile...I mean, unless you have plans for tonight...My fridge is pretty much empty so I can store your groceries.”

She lets out a small breathless laugh, “Are you bribing me?”

“That depends. Are you taking the bait?” he smirks as he rounds the curb.

She licks her lips as she looks at the side of his face. He sees the tip of her tongue held between her teeth from the corner of his eye. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

He glances at her smiling eyes. He boyishly grins.

 

__________

 

Before she knows it, Tessa finds herself with Scott at the door to his apartment. He fumbles with his keys and drops them. They both rush to pick them up but bump heads in the process.

“Sorry, Tess,” he chuckles as he sees her rub her head. He picks up his keys and fits the appropriate metal piece into the lock. He holds the door open for her and steps aside. “Make yourself at home.”

He takes her groceries and walks further into the apartment. He opens his fridge and cordons off a shelf for her food. She stands a foot from the door and watches him exit through the door.

“Let me just get my stuff from the car,” he yells behind him, “I’ll be right back.”

When he returns, she holds the door as he kicks off his shoes and shuffles in to put away his perishables into the refrigerator and other boxes and items into cabinets. Once he’s done, he balls up the plastic bags and looks up at Tessa, who is still standing near the door, examining her wet ankle boots.

“What’s wrong, T?” he breathes, “I told you to make yourself at home.”

“Well, I don’t want to ruin your floors,” she steps in place, and there’s a little puddle under her feet.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” he mutters under his breath, “I didn’t realize.” He grabs a handful of paper towels and begins to mop up the puddle around her feet. “That should do for now.”

She smiles down at him apologetically.

He gets up from his knees and holds out his hands, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Let me take your coat.”

Tessa removes her jacket and stuffs her toque in one of its pockets. She unwinds the scarf from her neck and hands her jacket and scarf to Scott who hangs up both on the hooks next to the door. He takes off his jacket and hangs it up next to hers. Tessa shivers. Her hair is still wet and so are the wrists of her long-sleeved shirt. Her wonderfully-snug jeans are damp, particularly from the knees down. She looks so unsure, definitely not the calm and collected Tessa he is used to when she’s normally around him...well, the way she used to be.

“How about that hot chocolate?” she suggests quietly.

He snaps his fingers and looks up from her legs, “I think you should probably change into something more comfortable. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

She crosses her arms, “No, Scott. I don’t need—no, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Tess, stop. Wet jeans are the fucking worst. I’ll get you something,” he leaves in the direction of his bedroom. Tessa can hear some drawers being pulled, followed by Scott’s feet padding on the wood floors. He steps towards her carrying a beige long-sleeved henley, a pair of light gray sweatpants, a pair of socks, and a green towel.

“The bathroom is on the left,” he hands his clothes to her. “You can stick your clothes in the dryer.”

“Thanks, Scott,” his name feels unusually foreign on her tongue.

He rubs his hands together, and tilts his head towards the kitchen, “I’ll go make that hot chocolate.”

 

__________

 

When Tessa returns, she sees Scott already pouring hot water from a percolator into two mugs on the counter—his Toronto Maple Leafs mug and her old Audrey mug. _Talk about blast from the past._ He really wasn’t lying when he said “just like old times”. Her thoughts immediately flash back to nights in Canton, and specifically one that involved a ratty, old t-shirt, along with other nights in this very apartment involving no clothing at all.

She shouldn’t even be here. The last time she was here she told him she couldn’t take it anymore, do it anymore. Still, she senses that this present-day Scott is different but then again, that could just be an illusion fabricated by her mind, hoping for the best, for everything to seem as easy as when they were kids—simple—before they made a gigantic mess.

“I can’t believe you still have it,” she points to the mug with the red-dressed caricature.

“I keep it for you,” he tries to meet her shifty eyes, “in case you’re ever over. I got it for you for Christmas, remember?’

“I remember,” she pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “That was a good Christmas.”

“Did I ever tell you the story behind that mug?” He rubs the back of his neck.

Tessa briefly looks up at the ceiling. “I...don’t think you did.”

“I drove my mom and she dragged me shopping with her—this was months before the holidays—I saw that mug and I immediately thought of you. I knew I had to get it for you.” She softly smiles up at him. He returns with a toothy grin. He transfers two tablespoonfuls of hot chocolate mix into each mug. After opening the cupboard, he holds up two packages of marshmallows. “Jumbo or small?”

She giggles for the first time in front of him, in what seems like forever, and it sounds like his favorite song. “Both!” She clasps her hands together as he pours the marshmallows from the bags.

“Go sit on the couch. I got this,” he follows her to the couch.

“What happened to your old couch?” she sits down.

“That old thing? I threw it out.” He sets the mugs on the coffee table. “The cushions were so worn out and there were beer stains all over it. I had to.”

Tessa nods before she takes a sip. “Understandable.”

“Why? Do you miss it?” he grins.

“No, not really,” she shakes her head, “We watched a lot of movies and played a lot of video games on that thing.” Her spoon pokes through the marshmallows. She takes a small one into her spoon.

“Yeah, we did.” He pops a jumbo marshmallow in his mouth.

“Sleeping on it was a bitch.” She takes another sip, feeling the warmth of the sweet drink spread throughout her.

He gives her a sideways glance. “I didn’t make you sleep on it that much.”

“No. You were much too kind for that.” She plays with the wet ends of her hair. A beat of silence passes between them.

“I’m so glad I ran into you tonight, Tess. You have no idea,” he lays his head back on the sofa cushions.

She sheepishly smiles, “I’ve missed you too, Scott.”

He takes a deep breath and moves over to Tessa’s side of the couch, hovering over her. Tessa remains still, staring intensely back into his hazel eyes. His hand holds firmly on the arm of the couch to support his weight. His other hand comes up to push one side of her hair back and cups her cheek. He can feel her skin becoming warmer to the touch. She shudders as his thumb caresses her cheekbone.

“Scott, I don’t—”

He interrupts her, his lips colliding with hers. He feels her tense up for a few seconds before she softens and lets herself fuse into the heat of the moment. Her lips curve over his so gently and delicately. Her hand lands on his chest and balls up his shirt in her fist, pulling his closer. Her other hand combs through his hair in an upward motion.

 _She tastes exactly the same_ , he thinks. She tastes warm and familiar and sweet from the hot chocolate. She tastes like scorching hot summer nights, like the satisfaction of a perfect edge kissing the ice, or like the celebration of a well-earned victory. She tastes like home.

He feels the hand on his chest begin weakly push him away. His lips press forward but her hand becomes more forceful.  

She shakes her head frantically, “Scott, no. This was a mistake.”

“Tess—”

“I shouldn’t have come here.” She scrambles off his couch and nearly falls to the ground but catches herself. “I need to leave.”

“But Tess, it’s just like old times,” he says desperately, “seeing you again, talking to you...kissing you. It feels like—like we’re picking up where we left off.”

“That’s exactly why I need to leave,” her voice is firm. “Seeing you and talking to you—it’s nice...but I can’t go back to how we were. I can’t.”

This wasn’t the same Tessa who would melt almost instantly at his touch.

 

____.____

 

_He rolled off her and released a satisfied sigh. “I love you, T.”_

_She stared blankly at the ceiling. “I can’t do this anymore, Scott,” she said quietly but straightforwardly._

_He propped himself up on his side, looking down at her appreciatively. “You don’t mean that.”_

_She shut her eyes tightly. “I feel disgusting. We can’t keep sneaking around behind Cass—”_

_“Don’t say her name,” he spitted out._

_Her eyes finally meet his. “I don’t understand why we’re still doing this.”_

_His eyebrows narrow. “I’m not using you.”_

_She looks away. “It sure feels like it.”_

_“It’s not like I forced you.”_

_“You never have. I just can’t do this anymore. I need more time to myself.” Her eyes close, forming tiny crinkles on her lids._

_He loudly sighed, “If that’s what you need...I’m sorry, Tess.”_

_“It’s not your fault. It’s both of ours.”_

 

____.____

 

“I really shouldn’t be around you,” she walks away from him, heading in the direction of the laundry room.

He follows her. “Tessa, stop,” he almost yells.

“You need to stop,” she turns around and points a shaky finger at him. “You don’t get it. We were fucking toxic. We basically slept our way together to silver.”

“Okay. Yeah, we were messy but we don’t have to be messy again,” he reasons with his hands moving about in a storm.

“I can’t be the other woman again,” she says defeatedly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” he reminds her. “And you were never the other woman, Tess. You _know_ that,” he asserts fervently.

She shakes her head again, her lips quivering and a tear streaming down her face. She turns away and continues to walk purposefully. “I shouldn’t be wearing your clothes. I’m so stupid. I should have called Jordan to pick me up.”

“Tessa,” his voice shakes with a mix of despair and exasperation.

“I need to leave,” she repeats the sentence as if it’s her new mantra as she rips open the dryer door and leans down to retrieve her still drenched clothes. He spins her around to face him and pins her against the adjacent washing machine.

“Tessa, listen to me,” his hands grasp her arms. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole. You don’t think I’ve hated myself for letting everything get so out of control? I’ve missed you so much. Every time I went out, I prayed that I’d run into you.”

“We were both stupid,” she corrects him.

“Yes, we were. But I’m pretty sure I was the one who started it and dragged you into it. You don’t know how sorry I am.”

“Your mom told me about your drinking problem,” she says in a low voice.

“You talked to my mom?” his expression transitioning to one of surprise.

“You never answered my texts. I needed to check up on you somehow. When you were putting my stuff away, I noticed that there’s no beer in your fridge.”

He shakes his head, “I had to numb the pain of losing you somehow. I’m sorry I strung you along. I thought it was better for us to fuck each other’s brains out instead of letting a relationship between us get in the way of skating. That plan was shit.”

“You think?” she raises an eyebrow.

“I thought you’d probably get sick of me if we were in an actual relationship. You’re too good for me, Tess. You’ve always been the smarter one, the more talented one, the one who could take the world by storm. I thought you could get sick of me following behind...and I thought it would hurt less if we just...well, you know.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she scoffs furiously.

“I didn’t—”

A deafening smack bounces off the walls in the small room. Wincing, he clutches his stinging cheek. Her jaw drops open, shocked at her own impulsive action.

“I’m so sorry!” she lets out a short, high-pitched cry. She holds his jaw, stroking the reddening skin. “I can’t believe I just did that. I didn’t mean to—I was so mad at you.”

“It’s all right, Tess. I know you didn’t mean to but I deserved that,” he looks down dejectedly.

“I should get you some ice.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he tries to assure her.

“Scott, all I’ve ever wanted was you, probably ever since I was a teenager and those hormones were kicking in.” A melancholy smile adorns her face. “Did you mean what you said before our short dance?”

“What? Remind me again.”

She rolls her eyes, repeating his words back to him. “No matter what, we’re together and no matter what, I love you…”

“...and no matter what, we’re going to enjoy this,” he finishes for her. He turns her hand over to kiss her palm. “Of course I meant it.”

“I can’t believe you thought I could get sick of you. I don’t get it. I love you. Why would I ever—”

He captures her upper lip in a short but tender kiss. He finds her eyes closed and her lips parted after he pulls away quickly.

Her eyes flash open. “You love me?” he asks disbelievingly.

“I thought you knew,” a hint of a smile plays on her lips. “Of course I do.”

“You should have told me,” his hands caress her hips.

“I should be more forward when it comes to you,” her hands find their way into his thick hair again. She jumps up to wind her arms around his neck and encircle her legs around his waist.

“ _Oh_ ,” his hands quickly wrap around her thighs, holding her up against him. “Maybe you should,” a tiny lopsided smirk appears on his face.

 

_________

 

The aroma of fresh flowers and a small stream of cold air awake her. On his pillow lays a bouquet of hydrangeas, tulips, and carnations. She sits up and a combination of Irish Spring soap and his distinctive, masculine musk connects her memory with feelings of nostalgia and comfort.

She rubs her eyes, unknowingly causing an eyelash to fall onto her cheek. Scott’s side of the bed is empty but panic is the last thing to creep into her mind. She blushes at thoughts of what happened last night. They didn’t get much sleep. There were too many tears, kisses, confessions, and intimate caresses.

She hears footsteps and adjusts her gaze towards the doorway.

“Morning, beautiful,” he grins, holding a cardboard tray with four drinks, “I don’t know what you drink nowadays so I got a vanilla latte, almond milk cappuccino, flat white, and a green tea frap...if you’re feeling extra sweet.” He holds up a paper bag in his other hand. “I also got some doughnuts and bagels.” He sets everything on top of his dresser.

She beams at him without saying a word.

“You should probably put this on before you catch a cold,” he grabs the henley she wore last night from the foot of the bed and walks over to her, sitting in front of her. His eyebrows raise as he gets closer and his finger wipes at her cheek.

She blinks bewilderedly. He holds an eyelash between his index finger and thumb in front of her lips. She breathlessly laughs and blows the little hair away.

Her shoulders quake and she looks down, noticing her exposed breasts. She lifts the sheet over herself and looks at him from underneath her eyelashes.

“I never get tired of looking at those,” he can’t bite his lip enough to prevent himself from smirking.

She playfully swats his shoulder and giggles.

He pulls the sheet down a tad and tenderly kisses the upper slope of one of her breasts. Then he lifts his hands to loop the collar of his shirt over her head and around her neck. She puts her arms through the too-long sleeves.

“I missed starting the day with you,” he kisses her cheek.

“I missed it too,” she breathes, “Thank you for the flowers.”

He scratches his head, “Sorry they didn’t have peonies. Apparently, they’re not in season so the lady recommended carnations.”

“I love them,” she plants a chaste kiss upon his lips.

“I love you,” he affirms with a serious expression.

She falls forward and hugs him close. He can feel her exhale at the base of his neck. “I love you, too.”

Suddenly, he questions, “Tess, do you still have your old copy of _Pride and Prejudice_?”

“My old copy...I think I have it somewhere in my mom’s house,” she purses her lips. “Do you want to borrow it?” She looks at him with a hint of smile.

“No, I just—I thought you...Forget it. It’s not important.” He waves a hand in the air, and it lands on his bed spread.

“What is it?” she nudges him.

“I thought you b—”

“Wait,” she lays a hand on his arm, “I did buy a another copy not too long ago. I can lend it to you.”

Scott can’t believe his ears. “Did you buy it at City Lights?”

“I did!” She smiles but it soon disappears. Her eyebrows narrow at him, “How did you know?”

His hand jumps to the back of her neck and pulls her closer to kiss her passionately. He feels Tessa’s hand make contact with the skin under his shirt.

Panting, he releases her mouth. “I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say hi?” Her small hand strokes his abdomen.

He shrugs, “I thought you might be disappointed to see me.”

“That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t—”

He adds more reasons, “I thought it might’ve been too awkward. I never texted you back or called...”

She strokes his cheek—the same one she instinctively slapped. “I’d like to think we would’ve picked up where we left off—talk and browse through the bookstore, maybe go to a cafe.”

He stares at her for a moment. “God, I love you,” he pulls her in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm living up to my user name by updating slowly. 
> 
> twitter: @_adagietto
> 
> Please leave me comments I can read once I fully snap out of my post-surgery stupor. c:


	3. the brightest thing I got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be 3000 words longer than I had planned. It's a "future fic" chapter.

III. a song

July 1, 2026

The car and house keys clatter on the counter as Tessa sets them down next to her large tote bag. She shrugs off her white blazer and hangs it on a bar stool behind the kitchen counter. She finds it unusually quiet in the house and mentally rolls her eyes, guessing the place where everyone could be and probably is. She swears she’s going to _kill_ him if she has to bathe all three of them _again_.

Her nude Manolo Blahnik pumps click on the hardwood floors as she turns her head to look in the living room, finding several toys scattered on the beige rug and the television blaring. She’s still wearing her business casual attire: a taupe skirt that hugs her curves and a cornflower blue and white striped long-sleeve button-down. She rolls up her sleeves and checks her wrist for a hair elastic but only sees her bracelets and watch. She runs a hand through her dark curls and moves them over to one side.

She marches down the hallway and the decibel level increases as she draws closer to the door that leads to the garage. Yup. _She’s going to kill him_.

She turns the door knob and finds her husband and children around a rusty pickup truck. Scott is whistling the chorus of “Come What May”. Looking disapprovingly at her family, she leans against the doorway with her arms crossed. Sometimes, she thinks her husband loves that rickety hunk of metal more than he loves her. Her favorite people are located in and around the ramshackle automobile, her eldest six-year-old making the loudest, sputtering noises in the driver’s seat.

Lost in his world of imagination, Brendan Joseph Virtue-Moir has his hands on the wheel and is pretending that he is driving a race car. “Dad, I’m almost at the finish line!”

“That’s my boy!” Scott calls from behind the hood of the truck.

Brendan certainly is a mini-version of his father. He possesses the same outgoing, boyish charm Scott had when Tessa met him. He has that same mischievous but magnetic personality, allowing him to make new friends at the drop of a hat. He has his father’s nose but his mother’s shocking green eyes and brown hair with a slight reddish tinge.

Next to him in the passenger seat sits the middle of the three children. Alice Katherine Virtue-Moir has the command and grace of her grandmothers. She may be only four-years old now but when she first laughed a fully belly-shaking laugh as a baby, Scott exclaimed, “Hey, she laughs exactly like you used to, T!” She has her father’s thick hair and his big hazel eyes. She claps her hands and hops and down, easily amused at her brother’s enthusiasm.

Tessa makes her presence known by saying in a loud and clear voice, “What are all of you doing in here?”

None of her children seem to take notice. However, her husband perks up from behind the hood, sticking his head out to the side and nodding in her direction. He’s wearing a grease-stained wife beater.

He throws his head back in a failed attempt to brush his short but floppy hair out of his face then tries to push his strands from his face with his forearm. He curls his fingers toward himself in a beckoning motion. She saunters over to him. His gaze runs up and down her body, admiring how good she looks in her deliciously snug pencil skirt.

Once she’s close enough to his liking, he gives her a chaste kiss on the lips. She lifts her hand to push his hair up and away from his eyes.

She sighs, “Even when you’re just working on your truck, your hair manages to look perfectly coiffed.”

“I should probably get it cut,” he wipes his hands on a rag.

“No, don’t. It’s the perfect length,” her eyes shift from his eyes to his hair. “I like it long.”

“Don’t I know it,” he stretches his hand down and around to grasp her ass but her hand grips his wrist before he does so.

“Don’t you dare stain my clothes,” she throws his wrist to his side.

He raises an eyebrow, “I just wiped my hands.”

Her hand seizes his and turns it over to reveal streaks of black along the lines of his palm and his fingers. “I rest my case,” she drops his hand.

“Mommy!” Alice squeals, finally noticing her mother’s presence.

“Hi sweetie,” Tessa walks around Scott to open the passenger door, and Alice jumps into her mother’s arms.

Tessa turns her head to Scott who hasn’t moved from his original position. “Did they already eat?”

He grabs his rag again and wipes at his palm vigorously. “Yup. They’ve been fed.”

“Dad made ravioli!” Brendan exclaims, throwing his hands on the steering wheel and leaning into its middle. The horn sounds, and Scott steps back from the hood.

“Brendan,” he scolds with a stern voice.

“Sorry, dad,” Brendan apologizes immediately.

“Did you eat?” Scott directs his attention back to his wife.

Alice rests her head on Tessa’s shoulder. “Yeah, we had a dinner meeting. Alex dropped me off.”

“Alex?” She can hear the concern in his voice.

“Alexandra,” Tessa expands the nickname of her assistant.

“Ah,” he nods his head.

Tessa’s lips turn up at the corners as she rolls her eyes. Alice starts to squirm in Tessa’s arms. Tessa puts her down gently. “I see number one and number two. Where’s baby number three?”

Scott motions her over with a hand and leads Tessa to the bed of the truck. Lying on a blanket on her back, the youngest of the bunch gurgles as she stares up at the ceiling and claps her hands enthusiastically. At almost two-years-old, Jane Grace holds the most power in the Virtue-Moir clan, having everyone wrapped around her little finger. Alice and Brendan dote on her constantly, trying to show her how to play with their toys. Scott melts everytime she stands in her crib and holds her arms out for him to carry her. She is a tiny version of Tessa, complete with translucent, jade doe eyes and luminous hair.

Scott tickles her belly, “Hey, cutie.” She squeals.

“Hi Mommy,” she giggles.

Tessa takes her small hand and kisses the back of her fingers. “Time for a bath, sweetie.”

“Book!” she tries to reach for Tessa’s long tassel earrings but misses.

Scott smiles at her, “I’ll read you a book afterwards.”

Tessa turns to face him, “Oh no you don’t. In the meantime, you’re going to bathe my other two previously-clean children.”

“They don’t need another bath. My children are spending quality time with their father.” His hand flicks her blue tiered tassel earring, causing it to sway back and forth.

“In this filthy garage? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Scott interrupts the fit of laughter coming from inside the truck, “Dan and Lissie, let’s go. I need to get you two ready for bed.”

Alice whines, “Daddy!”

“Dad, you said you were going to finish fixing the truck,” Brendan furrows his brows. Tessa almost laughs. His expression is vintage Scott Moir.

Scott maintains his stern stance. “It’s past your bedtime. Move it.” After swinging the door open, Brendan jumps down and disappointedly drags his feet toward the door leading to the house.

Tessa takes Jane into her arms and then feels a tug at her skirt.

“Mommy,” Alice tries to whisper but her whisper’s volume is akin to her regular talking voice. “Daddy said a bad word.”

“Alice,” Scott speaks through gritted teeth. “It was an accident. I hit my head,” Scott explains, his hazel eyes pleading for mercy from his wife.

Tessa looks at Scott with piercing eyes, “Alice, Brendan, go upstairs. I’ll get you cleaned up after I take care of Janie. Your father is in trouble.”

Alice tugs at her skirt again, “Mommy, are you going to spank Daddy?”

Scott snorts, muttering, “Lucky me.”

“Come on, love,” Tessa leans down to pat Alice’s shoulder, leading her away from the garage.

Alice repeatedly pats Tessa’s calf, “Why is Daddy lucky to get a spanking? They hurt.”

Tessa doesn’t answer her daughter and closes the door behind her, muffling her husband’s laughter.

 

__________

 

After bathing all three of her children, Tessa reads a short story to Alice and Jane When she gets to the third page, Jane is sleeping in the crib and Alice is asleep on her lap. Tessa carries Alice to her room, and heads to the master bedroom to prepare herself for bed. After changing out of her work clothes and taking a shower, she is disappointed to find no sight of her husband in their room. She throws on her black silky set consisting of a camisole and shorts and walks down to the garage, where he is still working on that aged heap of rusting metal.

She smiles as she opens the door and sees him remove his tank. He tosses the shirt on a stool and acknowledges her with a grin. Crossing her arms, she walks closer to him.

“Hey gorgeous,” he raises an eyebrow sportively. “I saw you smiling at me from over there.” He nods to the door. “What’s your name?”

She widens her eyes to silently ask, _Really?_ and lazily slaps the middle of his chest, stifling a coquettish laugh.

“Tell me your name,” he says close to her ear. “I need to know.”

She laughs into his shoulder before playing along and curving her lips coyly, “Tessa.”

“Ah, _Tessa_. That’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.” He pecks her lips. His hands migrate to her hips. His right hand moves lower and gives her bottom a squeeze.

“That better not stain,” she mutters.

He answers her with a another pat on her butt. “It won’t. It’s black. Have you come downstairs to spank me?” On his face is a shit-eating grin.

“Very funny. You really need to be careful with your language,” she pinches his nipple to punctuate her sentence.

He hisses, swatting her hand away. “I hate when you do that.”

“Think about that the next time you bite my nipple,” she nips at the skin of his collarbone in a light-hearted manner.

He rolls his eyes. “That was _one time_. I wanted to try something new.”

Exaggerating a frown, she protrudes her bottom lip. “It hurt. A lot.”

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Nice try,” her hands on his chest shove him back. “I was waiting for you upstairs but you’re taking too long. Don’t you have to wake up early tomorrow?”

“Nope. I gave my team the day off. Mike and Jamie are ready for their Grand Prix debut,” he responds, referring the his junior-level pairs. “They’ve been working hard, and I need them to relax before we get into full-throttle competition mode.”

She nods, understandingly. “Anything they need to work on?”

“Synchronization could use some work,” he smacks his lips together. He leans down to her ear to remark in a low voice, “To be honest, if they competed against us when we were at that age, we would’ve smoked ‘em.”

“Scott,” she gasps, scolding him.  

He shrugs, “I’m just sayin’.” His arms let go of her, and he walks to the bench, picking up a wrench from his toolbox. He throws it up and catches it before returning to the engine. “Are you off on Friday?”

“I think I can take off. The designs should be finalized tomorrow. Why?”

“Can you come with me to the rink? I want Jamie's lines to be more fluid. I need my better half of the greatest ice dancers of all time to give her some tips.”

“I can come…” She surveys his torso and his arms as he leans down to continue fiddling with something next to the carburetor. “It’s not fair that you still have most of your skating muscles.”

He shakes his head without looking at her and twists a bolt with his wrench. “Nah, my abs are gone.” Tessa’s eyes examine his veins as they bulge with each movement of his arm.

She walks up right behind him and places her hands on his abdomen. “No, they’re still there.”

He chortles, “Yeah, right. Barely. I’m almost forty, and my metabolism is nowhere near as fast as it used to be.”   

She sighs, still running her hands up and down the front of his torso, “You’re hardly old, and you look so good. I miss my skating muscles. When we’re old and gray, you’ll still be in shape and toned, I’ll probably be fat and flabby.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” he shakes his head and shoots her a look over his shoulder. “You’ve had three kids and still look exactly the same as you did ten years ago, Miss ‘I-do-pilates-and-yoga-every-week’.”

She scoffs, “I do not look exactly the same. You must be blind if you honestly think so.”

“Okay, so maybe you have more curves but I am more than okay with how your body looks now,” he pauses. “Have you seen your ass in the mirror lately because damn, it’s fucking amazing.” His empty hand stretches behind him and gives her butt a quick slap.

She kisses his right shoulder blade, “Is that why you can’t keep your hands to yourself lately?”

He chuckles, “You are correct.”

Her arms let go of him, and she walks toward the passenger door. “Why waste your time repairing this old thing?” She kicks at the tire.

“I kind of, sort of promised your firstborn I would fix it and take him for a ride.”  

“Oh please. Danny boy would be just as happy if you drove him around in any of the perfectly fine—and fairly new, might I add—cars in the driveway.” She is alluding to their Acura vehicles: the SUV (the family car, of course), his sports car, and her luxury sedan.

“Hey, I resent that,” he straightens and points the wrench at her. “This truck is special to me. I used to drive us to practice, and to and from Canton in this old thing.”

She eyes the chipping paint. “Should’ve been driven to a junkyard years ago, if you ask me.”

“I learned how to drive in it. I got my license in it. This baby also made it through the snow when you got stuck in your car. I even kissed you in it when we were teenagers. ” He exchanges his wrench for a Phillips screwdriver.

Her eyes glaze over at his last reason. “I can kiss you in any of the other cars, and I probably have,” Tessa argues. “And that kiss didn’t end well, remember? We agreed it was a bad move at the time...and it threw off our focus.”

He adjusts the prop rod and closes the hood. He looks at her with a serious but heated expression. “That’s not all I wanted to do to you that night,” he tosses the screwdriver into the box, resulting a clunking sound, and steps closer to her.

“Well, excuse me. I wasn’t the one who first suggested that it was bad move.” She fidgets her arms, not sure whether to keep them crossed or down at her sides.

He laughs sardonically. “I had to, or else, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself...I’m also pretty sure you weren’t ready.” He gets closer and closer until her back is against the passenger door of the car.  

Her eyes soften and her hands rest on the muscles on his hips, which form a ‘V’ pointing down into his shorts. “I’m ready now,” she replies quietly but firmly.

Scott wiggles his eyebrows and evokes a laugh from her throat. He tentatively connects their lips and pushes her body to the side so that he can release the latch to open the door. His kiss suddenly becomes more urgent as his hands grasp her backside, bringing her body up to his height.

Tessa’s legs instinctually lock around his waist, and her arms wrap around his neck. His kiss is fiery, deep, and zealous, drowning her in both love and arousal. She wouldn’t dare let him know how a simple touch or kiss can set alight to instantaneous, spellbinding emotion which can leave her almost breathless. He doesn’t know how much power he holds when he nuzzles her neck and plants a brief kiss on her shoulder while she’s hunched over her laptop, adjusting numbers on a spreadsheet. But now, his lips are overloading her senses, and she doesn’t want to stop. His tongue runs along her lower lip, begging for entrance. She opens her mouth and welcomes his tongue in a duel against her own.

“Are you working tomorrow?” he mumbles into her mouth.

“I’m working from home,” she answers with a swivel of her hips.

“Perfect.” He carries her into the truck and lays her down across the seats, pulling back from her lips. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where are you going?” she asks, out of breath.

He holds up his greasy, blackened hands. “You don’t want me to touch you with these, do you?”

She raises her eyebrows and agrees, “Good point.” She waits for him on the leather seats, her eyes scanning the interior of the truck and her mouth releasing a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he crawls over her.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she admits.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he cranes his neck down to recapture her lips.

His hands leave a hot trail up her sides and grab the hem of her thin shirt, forcing their lips to briefly separate when he pulls it over her head. He casts her camisole to the side, unintentionally pressing the center of the steering wheel with his elbow and causing the loud blow of the horn to rudely interrupt the serene silence of the night. Tessa bursts into a fit of giggles, her body shaking enticingly in front of Scott. He laughs as he dives into crook of her neck, kissing her smooth skin.

“I swear, if they wake up, you’re putting them back to bed,” she quips.

“Deal,” he nips at her collarbone. He continues to kiss further down her chest and encloses a soft pink nipple between his lips.

Tessa’s eyes close instantly, and her back arches. She moans, “Scott.” His left hand covers her other breast, while his right hand caresses her navel, fiddling with her piercing.

“You didn’t have this in, this morning,” he observes.

“I put it on for you,” she whispers, causing a chill to run up his spine. She pushes both her shorts and panties down.

Scott mumbles, “Thank you,” as he licks the cold metal. He carelessly shoves his boxers and shorts off his legs.

As if begging for him to take her, Tessa parts her legs as wide as she can, given the constricted space. Scott buries his face in her neck as his hand gently moves over her damp warmth.

“Someone’s already excited,” he mumbles into her ear.

She doesn’t censor the moan that escapes her lips when one of his thick fingers enters her. Her hips swivel almost immediately at the contact. She breathes out, “Oh Scott.”

She inhales sharply and raises her hips as he slips another one of his fingers into her heat. Steadily increasing the speed of the pumping of his fingers, he draws her out slowly—a pace that is not to Tessa’s liking. Still, she tries to stay present until she can no longer stand it and reaches down to press his hand to drive in further and harder.

Scott bends his head down to cover her other nipple with his mouth, tenderly sucking and tracing its circumference with his tongue. Tessa gasps for air, and Scott feels his fingers become soaked in her release. He lifts his head to meet her eyes, which display a scintilla of embarrassment.

“Clearly, you need me inside you now,” he reasons, erasing her self-consciousness and sliding himself into place within her core. Tessa feels an intense, vivid completeness whenever he enters her fully. Scott’s blood is set ablaze once he hears her first throaty moan. Their rhythms match perfectly, their hips harmonizing in a symphony of passion and pleasure. Tessa hyperventilates once Scott finds a certain angle, which causes Tessa to whimper and throw her head back on the leather seat.

“I’m coming,” she sobs.

“Again? Shit, you are extra sensitive tonight,” he grunts and adjusts their bodies so that Tessa is straddling his lap. Tessa encircles her arms around Scott’s neck and bites down on the skin at the base of his throat.

Scott sustains his tempo, grasping her hips and urging her faster up and down. His lips return to the swells of her breasts, tenderly sipping on her freckled porcelain skin. Tessa curves her back again, her nails scratching at his broad shoulders and his toned back.

“I’m so close, Scott,” she pants. “I’m almost there.”

Her body freezes in place as she comes before he does, moaning his name over and over. Scott leans forward to kiss and nip at her heaving chest.

Knowing he doesn’t have much time before he comes, he mutters, “Fuck.” His eyes look up to see the expression of pure bliss on her beautiful face as he lifts his hips for one more thrust and finally pulses inside her, groaning in between her breasts. He can sense the sheer rapture in the air. His arms wrap around her middle, allowing her to lean back against his hands.

“Wow,” she exhales, smiling.

Scott snickers, pulling himself out from her. “You can say that again.” He couldn’t resist crushing his lips on hers, reigniting the flames that left his body only a short moment ago.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

They hurriedly and clumsily pull away from one another as if something burned in between them. Scott promptly snatches his boxers and shorts from the dashboard and swiftly puts them on. Tessa scrambles to cover her bare chest.

“Lissie,” he gulps, trying to regulate his breathing. “What’s wrong, baby doll?”

Alice pouts, rubbing her eyes, “There’s a monster under my bed.”

In spite of the shame they feel at the possibility of being caught by their first daughter, Scott is unable to hold back from smiling at his adorable little girl. Once he sees that Tessa has her clothes back on, he opens the car door and takes Alice into his arms. “Do you want me to scare the monster away?”

Alice nods and rests her head under Scott’s chin. Tessa shuts the car door and follows behind.

Scott turns around, whispering to his wife, “I need you to get in bed. I’ll be there after I tuck her in. I’m not finished with you.”

“I came three times. I don’t know if I can do it again,” she simpers, shutting off the garage lights and closing the door to the house behind them.

“You will,” he smirks. He pats Alice’s back, “I must return Alice to Wonderland.” Smiling at Scott and Alice as they leave, Tessa lingers in the kitchen to drink some water to quench her thirst and to check on the door locks.

Alice’s arms grip onto his neck as he walks carefully up the stairs. “Daddy, what were you and Mommy doing?”

Tessa nearly chokes on her water.

“We were...uh…” Scott’s mind is racing to come up with an excuse to appease his four-year-old daughter. “um...Mommy and I were...playing hockey.”

Still in the kitchen, Tessa shakes her head with her hand resting over her eyes.  

“Did you score a goal?” Alice asks her father, mumbling softly.

“Yes, sweetie,” Scott kisses her hair and grins to himself, “Daddy scored a hat trick.”

 

__________

 

After showing Alice there are no monsters under her bed, Scott fluffs her pillow and tucks her in with a kiss on her forehead. When he enters the master bedroom, he finds Tessa lying on the mattress, without her shorts but still in her top and panties. She is on her left side, her legs bent. He stands at the edge of the bed.

“Your daughter is in bed now. I scared the monster,” he states, his arms akimbo. “I can’t believe she walked in on us.”

“I can’t believe it either,” she looks at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Her right hand reaches down to her underwear.

“We need to be more careful,” he suggests, “Maybe I shouldn’t h—” His eyes automatically glance down at her hand.

With her index finger, she touches edge of the crotch of her panties and pulls the fabric down to expose her core for a few seconds.

Scott’s wide eyes briefly look into hers. “Did you just—”

“What were you saying?” she looks unfazed as she flashes him again, her fingers pulling her panties to the side.

“You did it again,” he comments, poker-faced. His eyes are now glued to her wet center, even when she pulls her hand away and the cotton material covers her once again.

“Did what?” she replies. Her voice sounds innocent but her eyes shine with naughtiness.

“ _You’re sick_ ,” he reprimands her with a naughty smirk, looping his finger through her panties’ crotch and dragging the fabric down her legs.

She does her very best to stifle her laugh.

 

__________

 

After a few rounds and a few hours later, Tessa is fast asleep with Scott at her back, breathing into the nape of her neck. Scott is awakened by crying coming from Jane’s room. He slowly moves his body away from Tessa’s and peels back the comforter, sitting up and getting up from the bed. Tessa stirs and begins to get up but Scott lays a hand on hers.

“I got her,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.” He walks over a chair that has a pile of his clothes, a messy habit persisting since his teenage years. She watches his shadow dance along the wall as he rushes to put on a pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt. Their door creaks when he opens it, reminding Tessa that she should get some oil to remedy that noisy hinge. She hears Jane’s cries get louder and sees a soft glow illuminate the hallway and gleam through the crack in the door. The volume of the cries decreases, and she can hear Scott speaking in a soothing hushed tone.

The crying soon ceases. Tessa could turn over on her side and return to her slumber but her motherly instincts prevent her from ignoring her youngest child. She slips on a satin robe and walks on her toes out of her bedroom. In the hallway, she creeps past Brendan’s and Alice’s rooms but not without checking on each of them. In Jane’s room, Scott is swaying from side to side, all the while rubbing his daughter’s back. Janie’s small hand is clutching onto a tuft of Scott’s hair behind his ear. Tessa remains in the doorway.

When Scott lays Janie back into the crib, Tessa walks from her spot to next to her husband, staring down at her mini doppelganger. Scott winds up the musical baby mobile, an array of plush, pastel colored stars dangling and twirling over Jane, who is now sleeping. He smiles at Tessa, reaching a hand around her waist and pulling her into his side.

He whispers into her ear, “I told you I got her. You should be sleeping.”

She exhales, “I couldn’t resist checking on both of you.”

Tessa beams admiringly at Jane while Scott’s eyes oscillate from Jane to Tessa. His lips form a goofy grin, forcing Tessa to turn her gaze toward him.

He holds out his other hand, and asks, “May I have this dance?”

“Scott, it’s almost three in the morning.”

“But it’s our song,” he raises an eyebrow at her, taking her hand in his and gently leading her to the center of the room.

She can’t help but smile back at him as his right arm wraps around her and his left hand clasps hers. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes as she hears him softly sing the lyrics to the instrumental.

“And there’s no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side…”

The warmness from Scott’s body spreads throughout her own as he sings the words close to her ear. She feels him unanticipatedly tense up and faintly chuckle.

“We have an audience.”

Tessa turns to where Scott is facing. Brendan and Alice are in the doorway, peering into the room and spying on their parents. Scott puts a finger to his lips and follows Tessa out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Why are you dancing in the middle of night?” Brendan asks confusedly.

“Do you dance every night?” Alice questions with an enthusiastic smile.

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” he pats Brendan’s shoulder. “And no, Liss. Only tonight.” He scoops Alice up into his arms and kisses her cheek.

Tessa gives Brendan a kiss on the top of his head, running a hand through his hair and walking behind him to his room.

“Your dance is pretty,” Alice smiles at her dad.

“You’re pretty,” Scott tickles her belly, scrunching his nose at her. She giggles at his funny face.

“Mommy is beautiful,” she whispers loud enough for Tessa to hear.

“That’s a big word, kiddo.” He opens the door to Alice’s room. “I think Mommy is beautiful too, and so are you.” With his finger, Scott taps Alice on the nose.

 

__________

 

It’s early in the morning when Tessa wakes. Her body is pressed up firmly against Scott’s, his arms firmly locked around her. She wriggles but his arms do not loosen. Scott incoherently mumbles and holds her tighter to him.

She remembers that she isn’t going to the office today and relaxes against him. She passes her hand up and down his spine, hearing his breath and feeling the familiar rise and fall of his chest. She can also feel the hardness of his morning wood against her abdomen. She bites her lip as she slips a hand under the elastic of his boxers and gives his buttocks a firm squeeze.

A rippling of muscles follows along with his voice. “Five orgasms were not enough for you?”

He startles her, resulting in a shiver. She could have sworn he was asleep.

He wipes a hand down over his face. “Your sex drive is through the roof, Tess.”

She interjects, “Are you seriously complaining?”

He laughs inaudibly, “Oh, I’m not complaining.” He hastily removes her clothes and his boxers, pushing her onto her back and sinking into her.

Tessa returns her hands to his backside, holding him as he plunges into and retracts from her. The shaking of the bed frame and slapping of skin can be heard, breaking the muteness of dawn.

“Ah, Scott,” she whimpers, “Yes.”

He feels her tighten around him and maintains his accelerated pace, coaxing another orgasm from her. An expression of intense pleasure shows on his sharp features as he releases and collapses beside her.

He huffs, “That should hold you down for a few hours.”

She laughs in between breaths as he pulls the bed sheet over them.

He turns his head to get a glimpse of the clock. “I need to get up soon to make French toast and drive Brendan to skating camp.”

“Alice might come running in here,” Tessa predicts.

Scott props up his head on his elbow. “I have a theory as to why you’re insatiable.”

“Humor me,” she mimics his position.

“I think…” his hand moves over her navel, “you may have another baby in there.”

“That crossed my mind a few days ago,” she nods. “I have a hunch.”

He pushes her hair behind an ear. “You were like this when you were pregnant with Brendan and a little bit too with Alice.”

“You’re right,” she lays her finger on her chin. “I was.”

He kisses her firmly on the mouth. “I’ll stop by the store to get you a pregnancy test after I drop off Brendan.” He rubs his hands together. “I’m hoping for a boy this time...but I’ll still be happy if it’s a girl.”

She happily looks up at him and rubs his abdomen. “Me too.”

“We gotta even the playing field,” he takes her other hand and presses it to his cheek. His eyes look like glistening honey as he declares, “I love you. Whenever I say those words, I don't feel like they carry enough weight with them. I feel like they're not enough to really say how much you mean to me.”

“As long as they're coming from you, they'll always be enough,” she caresses his cheek.

“Thank you for giving me wonderful, beautiful children.” He removes her hand from his face and kisses her palm.

She muffles a laugh, “I’m only half of the equation.”

They hear small feet padding on the floor, and Alice bursts through the door.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Scott sits up, putting his boxers on under the sheets. He picks her up and puts her down on the bed next to her mother.

Alice kisses Tessa on the cheek with a loud smooch. She eyes the remote on the nightstand. Tessa reaches for it and turns on the television, settling on an educational cartoon.

Scott runs a hand through his mussed hair. “Daddy’s making French toast. Is that okay, cupcake?”

Alice responds with a nod and a smile. Scott picks up Tessa’s clothes from the floor and throws them over to her. He catches sight of his back in the mirror.

“Whoa, T.” He surveys the long red scratch marks on his back.

“Oops,” she hums a laugh.

He shakes his head at her and clicks his tongue. Grabbing his shirt from the foot of the bed, he quickly puts it on and walks to Tessa’s side of the bed.

“Don’t look at me with those sexy green eyes after you’ve had my French toast,” he warns playfully, whispering so that Alice doesn’t hear, “or else I’ll become a distraction and I know you’ve got work to do.

"I’m not making any promises,” she whispers back.

With one supporting hand on the bed, he leans down to kiss her neck and spins around to walk out the door and to the hallway. 

“It’s time to get up, champ,” he calls to his son. Tessa hears him open Brendan’s door. Scott sticks his head in the master bedroom doorway after a split second.

“By the way, I forgot to tell you Kat called yesterday and said she wants to give us four tickets for the Leafs’ opening night.”

“Oooh, that sounds fun. I’ll call her back.” Having already put on her clothes, Tessa shuffles out of bed and ties the sash of her robe.

Scott watches her intently, appraising her naturally graceful movements.

Expecting him to have gone down to the kitchen, she raises her gaze and is surprised to find him still there. “What?” she asks pointedly, smoothing the wild tangles of her hair with her hands.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head with a sly grin. “You look beautiful. I’ll go make breakfast.”

Alice smiles amusedly, turning her attention from the television to her parents. “Mommy always looks beautiful.”

“Thank you, sweet girl,” Tessa wraps her arms around Alice and kisses her temple.

“Do I get a kiss too?” Scott’s eyebrows lift and lower cheekily.

Tessa kisses her palm, and blows in his direction. His hand grasps a handful of air and places it over his heart. Satisfied, he winks at Tessa and finally makes his way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

 

__________

 

 

October 7, 2026

Tessa and Scott leave Jane with Alma, and take Brendan and Alice to their first hockey game. At halftime, the kiss cam lands on them while Tessa is holding Alice’s drink as she sips through her straw. Music from their Moulin Rouge free dance blares, and causes Scott to perk up.

He guffaws at the giant screen, which has their names displayed on the bottom: “Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, Former Olympic Champions” and pats Tessa’s thigh. Completely oblivious, Tessa turns her head, and Scott plants one on her as the crowd cheers and the lyrics “I will love you until my dying day” blast from the speakers. When they pull away, Scott points at themselves on the jumbotron. Flustered and wide-eyed, Tessa covers her mouth with her hand while Scott kisses her warm, blushing cheek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking a hiatus for the next two weeks. Thank you to all my readers, kudos leavers, and commenters. I hope you've enjoyed this (three shot) fic as much as I had fun writing it.
> 
> Twitter: @_adagietto

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles come from "Covered In Rain" by John Mayer. I consider that song to be the main theme of this fic.


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